


Snowstorm

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Massage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Top Castiel, ok some plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:43:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2390453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a blizzard descends on Camp Chitaqua, Dean pays a visit to Castiel's cabin to hide out. The decisions he's going to have to make soon weigh heavily on his shoulders and Castiel has an almost infallible way of relieving Dean's tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowstorm

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I lost touch sometime during this; my mind was all over the place but I hope it works. I had End!Verse feelings and winter is fast approaching.  
> Un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own.

_Prompt Four: Snowstorm_

 

The storm outside rages relentlessly, forcing the cabin to creak and groan at it's sheer force. Castiel sighs and leans back in the sofa, taking another long drag from the joint between his finger and thumb as his eyes flicker over to the nearby window. From what he can see of the outdoors, it's dark and from the illumination of the tiny light that hangs outside the cabin; he can see that the air is penetrated by sheets of white. The snow is coming down fast and heavy and he's sure the ground will be covered in a good few inches come morning time. The wind whistles as if warning him of the imminent death he will surely receive if he dares venture outside for too long. The worse the weather, the higher the likelihood of being attacked by wild dogs or Croats.

The cabin creaks loudly again, threatening to buckle under the curiosity of the onslaught. He shivers a little as he watches the snow flurry outside and then tilts his head back as he takes another drag and lets out a bitter laugh. He feels cold. Of course he does. A few years ago he could've stepped through that like it was nothing. Now he wants to curl up in blankets and light a fire. Useless. Pathetic.

Castiel finishes his joint and extinguishes it in a makeshift ashtray before padding towards the bedroom and sprawling out on the bed. The lightheaded dizziness of his high is sliding through his veins like honey and he can't help but grin as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the unrelenting storm outside. The wind swirls around outside his cabin in the same way that the high swirls through his body and Castiel exhales heavily. There is something so satisfying about being high, the way it numbs his braincells and inhibits any unsettling, anxious nausea that often overwhelms him when he remembers how useless he really is and how much he used to have. He relishes the relaxing tranquility that washes through him and he can forget all about how he failed the one mission he gave himself; to save Dean Winchester.

His trance is broken by a wave of cold, bitter air surrounding him and the sound of someone slamming his cabin door in the next room. He shivers even from this distance and sits up in bed just in time to see his 'fearless leader' appear in his doorway.

The green-eyed ex-hunter is shivering and his cheeks and the tip of his nose are pink from being viciously bitten by the cold air outside. His dark blonde hair is dusted with white that is slowly melting into nothing at the change in temperature, leaving his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. Castiel watches as he shivers, rubbing his hands together and taking a sharp breath inwards. From the way that Dean's nose crinkles, Castiel is sure that the younger man could smell the fading scent of cannabis that lingers in the air. Nevertheless, he doesn't comment even though he knows Dean still disapproves.

"Fuck, it's cold." Dean mumbles as he shudders again and Castiel doesn't respond for a moment, he just hums and pushes himself off the bed and pads over to the fire at the other side of the room. There is no central heating; those kinds of luxuries are gone now. He throws some logs into it and lights it before switching his lamp off so that the fire is the only thing illuminated the cabin room.

"Some storm out there, huh?" Castiel finally comments as he warms his hands by the fire before retreating to sit on the edge of his bed.

Dean sighs and shrugs off his damp jacket that was infiltrated with the melting snow. He tugs off a second layer of clothes that are also wet so that he's just in a black tee and it's hard for Castiel not to admire the taut muscles of his arms that bristle with goosebumps as they try to adjust to the temperature. Castiel's tracks his every movement as he walks to the fire and holds his hands, palms out, in front of it.

"Yeah. We're in lock-down." He tells Castiel with an exasperated sigh. "Everyone is under strict instructions not to leave their cabins until it dies off. So, uh, I guess you'll have to cancel your yoga-orgy meetings until then."

Castiel could swear there's a tone in Dean's voice but he doesn't recognize what. He sprawls out on the bedsheets and turns his head to look in the hunter's direction.

"That really is a shame..." He hums wistfully. "However, you are not in your cabin. Disobeying your own orders?"

"Yeah, uh, about that..." Dean turns to look at Castiel again and the former-angel finds himself lost in pools of green. "I was hoping I could hide out here. Alice and Merissa are in my cabin ready to tear me a new one for sleeping with them both on the same day."

Castiel laughs but it comes across more bitterly than he intends. He tries to wash it away with a smile but it's already out there and it's too late so he just sighs, attempting to quell the odd sickly feeling that washes through his gut. Fuck. He should've smoked more when he had the chance. Human emotion is insufferable.

"Yes, you're more than welcome to join me. You know, I could teach Merissa and Alice to relax if they so wished."

"Uh, I'd rather not have to wash my sheets once you're done with them, Cas." Dean jokes but there's a similar bitterness to his laughter and Castiel can't quite work out why. Perhaps Dean doesn't like the idea of Castiel handling women he's already, as he would say, conquered. Castiel watches as he sits down on the mat in front of the fire and glances at him. "So what do you do here for fun that doesn't involve getting drugged up?"

Castiel itches at his stubble as if he's thinking and then licks his lips with a laugh, closing his eyes. "Aside from sex and decadence? Nothing much."

"You need to get some new hobbies..." Castiel hears Dean murmur and he lets his eyes flicker open, glancing at the back of the hunter that joined him in his room.

"I could say the same to you. I doubt you can suggest something that doesn't involve torturing demons for information, chasing Lucifer and finishing off Croats, Dean." He hums thoughtfully and Dean laughs, muttering something about how it's the end of the world and it leaves Castiel silent for a while. It _is_ the end of the world and Castiel hates knowing that they're all likely to die guns blazing sometime soon. Especially knowing that Dean will fall trying desperately to fight it. He exhales and then swallows. "Yes, well. I'm just saying. All work and no play, I believe the expression goes."

"Yeah, you know it works the other way too?" Dean turns his head to glance back at Castiel. The green of his eyes is indiscernible in the darkness and they're just dark and wide as the flickering light of the fire dances across them. Castiel fleetingly notes how beautiful Dean looks but he pushes it away. "All play and no work is just as screwed up, Cas."

"I work." Castiel responds, closing his eyes again and relishing in the feeling of the heat radiating from the fire sliding across his body like honey. "Just not unless you ask."

"Yeah, whatever you say, buddy." Dean snorts a little and Castiel quirks an eyebrow in Dean's direction. He climbs off the bed and moves across the room, his movements slender and slow. He sits down behind Dean on the rug that's positioned in front of the fire and sighs softly.

"You know, Dean..." He runs his tongue across his lips. "I mean it; you work far too much. You ought to let go more often."

Dean's breath is audible to Castiel in this new position and Castiel wonders what those breaths would sound like sped up and desperate. He pushes it away along with his other ineluctable human emotions and crosses his legs as Dean replies.

"Yeah? I guess you'd know all about that...." There's a sigh to his voice before he speaks again. "Alright, whatever. I just wanna hang out so I don't have to think about the stuff I've gotta do when this storm stops."

Castiel is silent for a while and he knows the meaning behind those words too well. Dean is getting closer and closer to tracking down Lucifer and the Colt with each passing day. More and more demons are tortured at Dean's hands and sometimes, during the times that Castiel stupidly decides to sit in and monitor, he is sure that Dean is beginning to enjoy it. He says its just to extract information - it's quick and practical - but Castiel is sure he's using as a relief, an outlet to feed his sadism because letting it ache inside him would be too painful. Soon, there will be more demons to be tortured, more Croats and more team members lost. Soon, he will come face too face with the man who is no longer Dean's brother and put a bullet through his brain in the hope it will end this misery. Castiel is more than aware of the weight resting on Dean's shoulders.

"I may not be much use anymore..." He finally replies, voice soft and considerate. He doesn't want Dean to have to suffer through any of that but there is nothing he can do anymore. "But I know how to work the human anatomy."

With those words, he reaches up and presses his fingertips into Dean's shoulder blades, pushing across his skin to try and relieve the tension built up in his muscles. Dean's head falls forward and he releases a moan that Castiel is sure is unintended. He reaches around to curl his fingers over Dean's shoulders and rubs, massaging him with his slender fingers. If there's anything Castiel knows how to do, it's this. The small groan that slips from the hunter's lips sends a quick and unexpected rush of heat down to Castiel's crotch and he shifts on the rug to suppress it.

"Cas, fuck," He laughs breathlessly and rolls his shoulder blades. "Shit, that feels good. I was lugging ammo earlier before the storm started."

"I can tell," Castiel breathes out, his voice like honey. He moves closer so that his breath is unintentionally ghosting across Dean's neck and his ear and whispers. "You're very tense, Dean. If you'd like, I can fix that. Do this properly."

Dean hesitates and Castiel is sure that he's running through the offer in his mind. He knows that Dean's first thought will be something along the lines of _'that seems very gay'_ but he hopes he'll override it. After all, Castiel and he are best friends - or so he assumes because Dean has stated so before and Castiel just goes with it because he's not really sure what friendship means anymore. All he knows, is that battling the end of the world together and getting a hard-on while massaging the other is not the definition of friendship.

"Uh. Isn't that a bit...."

"Dean, I pulled your body from hell and put you back together again." He tries not to dwell on that too much as it's a clear reminder of the powers that Castiel no longer possesses. "I'm sure you will be fine. Besides, you're so tense; you need to be healthy if you're going to work when the storm finishes."

"Yeah, alright. I guess you're right..." Dean eventually agrees and stands up from the rug. "I could do with relaxing once in a while, you're right."

"Good." Castiel hums, pleased, and throws some more wood into the fire, making it crackle and spark as its heat washes over Castiel's skin. "If you don't mind, it would be preferable for you to lie on the bed, on your front. And remove your shirt."

He distracts himself by rooting through one of his drawers for the massage oil that he's sure he left here after he helped one of the girls from his 'class' when she'd pulled a muscle in her leg. He hummed out a tune that he couldn't recall, perhaps something Dean had sung before, and finds the desired object. He doesn't want to think about what else they could be doing while Dean lies on his bed half-naked. He turns around to see the younger man lying on his bed, chin resting on his folded forearms. He's shirtless and Castiel finally lets his eyes roam across the contours of his back as the flickering light from the fire dances patterns across his beautifully freckled skin. Castiel's chest aches and he laughs bitterly to himself. Pathetic, his thoughts repeat.

He moves over to the bed, massage oil in hand and kneels beside Dean's body. Dean looks relaxed and he moves his head to the side to look at Castiel, raising an eyebrow as if wondering what the former-angel's next move is going to be. The pink color from the bitterness outside on his cheeks has dissipated so Castiel can see his freckles again, dusted across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. From this proximity, he can finally make out the green hue of Dean's eyes and it's beautiful. Castiel swallows - he can't think about that now - and gestures to Dean's body.

"It would be preferable if I.... I mean, if I want to do this properly. I hope you don't mind." Castiel asks, nervous, partly because Dean may say no (even though he hasn't really made it clear what he means) and partly because Castiel doesn't know how he'll handle it if Dean says yes.

"Just do whatever you gotta do, Cas." Dean hums and closes his eyes, clearly trying to relax his muscles a little. He knows that Dean has only agreed because the tension in his muscles is probably becoming unbearable and relief seems nice. It is probably weird for him that Castiel is the one about to grant him it. With that, he moves to straddle Dean's upper thighs but he's practically sitting on Dean's ass and he _really_ shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

Dean shifts a little to get comfortable, letting out an awkward laugh at their new position but it dissipates into a sigh once Castiel's fingers, that are now slick with massage oil, press against his back again. Castiel works his hands across Dean's mid-section, pushing away the knots and tenseness that he comes across before moving to another. He rubs his fingers across Dean's shoulder blades and linger his fingers without thought. If this were his own back he were inspecting, he would see a pair of slightly crescent-shaped and paper-thin scars from where his wings used to be. A while ago, those scars would hurt when something came into contact with them but now they're sensitive and pleasurable, as if the ghostly remains of his oil glands are still there somewhere. He sighs, despondent, and trails his fingers back up to Dean's shoulders.

The hunter is letting out little sighs and breaths of pleasure as Castiel's fingers work across his tight muscles and it's almost impossible for them not to affect Castiel. He tries to fight it, tries to ignore how the feeling of Dean's warm skin underneath his fingertips, coupled with his tiny moans and his body pinned beneath him, set his body ablaze with a fire that he stopped feeling ashamed of a long time ago. No one, not even Dean, had to know. He has never said anything to him. Dean is his friend, his comrade, and his leader by principle. He is fighting the apocalypse and carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. He has far too much to worry about to be burdened by the heaviness of Castiel's secret. And so, the former-angel has never spoken of his ever-present feelings for him.

He continues his ministrations, relieving his 'leader' of the burning ache in his muscles until his skin is smooth and relaxed beneath his fingers. He doesn't stop though, partly because having a massage when there's nothing to loosen in your muscles still feels amazing and partly because Castiel doesn't want Dean to stop making _those_ sounds. It's sick and Castiel knows it's sick, especially with the semi that he's now sporting, but he doesn't care. He likes it.

He shifts a little to get comfortable atop Dean and accidentally brushes against Dean's ass, his rapidly growing erection rubbing against his skin. It's fleeting but it's enough to draw a moan from Castiel's lips. He tries to disguise it but it's too late and Castiel is sure that the ex-hunter will have felt his _situation_ even through his jeans because it's getting more and more difficult for Castiel to suppress the aching need to the back of his mind. He flushes and his throat runs dry but he's sure, in that split second of contact, that he heard Dean groan too. He tells himself that it's his brain making it up because he wants it so bad or it's the creak of the cabin in the storm.

Castiel bites his lip to try and will himself to calm down but it doesn't work. He bites too hard and winces, darting his tongue out to lick the pain away before taking a shaky breath. He moves his hands up to work at the muscles in Dean's neck and when he does so, he makes sure to press his erection hard into the hunter's skin. He's going into overdrive and not thinking straight but he needs this. Needs it like Dean needs the chase and the torture. Needs it like everyone on this damn camp needs the hope that they'll end this one day even though Castiel isn't so sure anymore and he knows Dean isn't either. He needs it so bad and he hopes, for a second, that Dean is stupid enough to let him have it.

He is.

The moan that slips from the hunter's lips is nothing to do with the hands on his neck, especially since he pushes his ass back involuntarily to grind against Castiel's hard length. Castiel's head falls forward a little and he lets out a short gasp but he doesn't break his resolve. He slides his hands back down, across his shoulder blades, pushing across his midsection, until he reaches the waistband of Dean's trousers. He pulls the hunter's hips up enough for him to slide his pants and boxers down just a little so he can massage the small of his back, working his hands to rub the globes of his ass too. He tries to pretend it's for professional reasons but it's not. He just wants to touch everywhere that he can.

Sometime during this process, Dean's jeans slid all the way down so that only the black fabric of Dean's briefs and Castiel's hippie-yoga pant things that he's wearing - he doesn't know the name of them - are separating Dean's ass from Castiel's erection. Castiel long since stopped wearing underwear, partly because it felt more free and partly because he hated laundry, and the material of his trousers is so thin that Castiel doesn't feel like he's even wearing pants right now. He slips his fingers under the waistband of Dean's boxers, massaging his skin.

One of his fingers involuntarily slipped between his cheeks and Castiel isn't thinking straight. He's sure that Dean is going to tell him to stop but he doesn't care right now. He thinks he may implode if he doesn't act now. With that, he pushes one of his oil-slick fingers against Dean's rim and the gasp that the hunter releases is enough to urge Castiel on. He's not fighting this. Dean wants this as much as he does. He slowly pushes his finger inside Dean, listening to the gasps and moans of the man beneath him as he bucks his hips backwards to greedily accept Castiel's digit. He can't believe this is happening. He feels dizzy with need and it overcomes everything else that's telling him this is probably a mistake.

The hunter rocks himself onto Castiel's slender finger and gasps, needy, before glancing over his shoulder to look at the former-angel. Castiel meets his gaze and sees that the hunter is gone. His eyes are dark and not from the light of the fire but from the lust that is evident on his face, on his spit-slick and parted lips.

"Cas...what...." He breathes out, furrowing his brow. He looks conflicted and so Castiel takes control. He may not be able to save Dean Winchester, but at least he can look after him. He's not completely useless.

He leans down and presses his lips across his shoulders and then his hair, hushing him softly as he added a second slick finger past the tight ring of muscle. Dean feels so hot and tight around him, twitching against his fingers. It's delicious and perfect and more than Castiel had ever imagined when he let his mind drift to his darkest fantasies. The hunter releases a broken moan, begging for more, and Castiel can't help but oblige, sliding his fingers in and out of Dean's tight hole, relishing the heat stretching around him. He's so tight that Castiel is sure he's new to this but then again, Castiel doesn't know much about having sex with men himself.

He rocks his fingers and wonders if the ministrations that he uses on women will work on Dean so he crooks his fingers ever so slightly and pushes deeper, trying to discover if he can make Dean come undone the same way. He can, apparently, as the hunter arches his back and groans loudly. His fingers brush against something when he achieved this reaction and so he pushes against it, releasing another broken moan from Dean's lips.

"D-Dean..." He chokes out, trying to suppress his own desperate moans. Maybe this is just Dean searching for more relief, more outlets for his tension and he's using Castiel to get it. Even so, Castiel doesn't think he cares right now. If this - being used for convenience - is all that Dean can give him then Castiel will take it. It's not like they'll have much longer to reach otherwise. It's the end, after all.

So, with that, he bites his tongue. He prevents himself from whispering all the nonsense that he would if he didn't stop himself. He would tell Dean about how he'd wanted this so badly for so long. Tell him how he's all he thinks about when he's busy with some women he doesn't give a damn about. He'd tell him that despite everything, despite his fall and his uselessness and the never-ending drugs in his system, he does not regret ending up here. If he were to go back, he'd choose to stick by the hunter every damn time.

"C-Cas, wait...." Dean groans and Castiel stills. There. He'd been waiting for that. Dean had realized what was happening and he wanted the former-angel to stop. He was ridiculous for trying but it was worth it, to hear the broken moans of his beloved just once. Just for a moment.

"Yes, Dean?" Castiel speaks softly and soothingly, as if trying to reassure Dean that he's still him. He's not just some guy. It's them, Dean and Castiel, and this isn't wrong. No, Castiel doesn't think it's wrong at all. He thinks its so very right that it hurts. Aches.

"L-Lemme turn over." Dean insists and that isn't what Castiel expected at all. He slides his fingers slowly out of Dean and hears him whimper as he climbs off him.

Dean turns over on the bed and looks up at Castiel, cheeks flushed and oh so beautiful in the dancing, ever-shifting light of the flames. Castiel blinks slowly, eyes sliding from the hunter's slick and pink lips down to his chest, the anti possession tattoo, his pink nipples that are attentive and hardened. His eyes flicker all the way down his beautiful, perfect skin and Castiel can't find the right words. He has always considered himself to be well schooled in millions of languages, whether they be active or dead, or the language of the angels, or of ancient civilizations that stopped uttering those words so long ago but yet, despite all that knowledge, Castiel cannot string together a sentence to describe exactly how beautiful he thinks Dean Winchester is.

He remembers, wistfully, how he had seen the first sunset, the first steps of humanity, the first words spoken. He remembers watching civilisations grow and knowledge blossom. He remembers watching the rainforests expand across the land and remembers the first slide of sunlight across the first real civilization. He remembers the first drop of snow on the first official Christmas celebration. He remembers the first lap of the ocean against the shore and the first dusting of sunlight touching the earth. He remembers his first flight, souring above the oceans and above humanity. He remembers the first spread of his wings, remembers the black feathers that shone the color of ink in the sunlight and shimmered like oil on water. He has seen so much beauty and so much joy and so much _life_ in the world and in all of that, through all of those experiences, Dean is still the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on. The most beautiful thing Castiel thinks has ever existed.

He is sure he's probably pathetic for thinking so but right now, he doesn't care. He doesn't care because the most beautiful soul in existence is lay out for him, is staring up at him with green eyes so full of lust and trust and love and he's begging to be touched, to be needed by Castiel the same way that he needs him. And, God, Castiel needs him too. He cannot help but find himself lost in eyes so green that to describe them with the hue of the forest or the grass would be an insult because they're so much more complex than that, so much more beautiful. He's transfixed by the array of freckles that he's sure he can see constellations in if he studied for long enough.

He's encaptured by every detail of the Righteous Man, of his righteous man, and he laughs at himself. Laughs because the ache it brings to his chest is so _human_ and laughs because they're going to die in battle soon, screaming and bloody and ripped apart and it's not _fair._ There's not enough time. Castiel has lived for hundreds of thousands of years or longer, he's existed through eons and yet his time with the hunter is so short, is stolen away. A few years. That's all he gets. All of those eons and they get a few years.

"Cas, quit staring at me...." Dean chastises and even though it's only been a few moments since he'd turned over - his brain moves fast - he's sure that the green-eyed man is becoming impatient. He stands by his thoughts, though. Dean couldn't look more beautiful. Or at least, he thought so, but when his eyes trail down to see Dean's erection straining against the black fabric of his briefs, Castiel takes it all back. _Now_ he can't look more beautiful.

He licks his lips and laughs softly at Dean's words, crawling on top of him. He cannot believe he has been granted permission to live out the fantasy he's been craving for so long. His blue eyes flicker up to meet Dean's green and it's all he needs to make the move. He leans down and captures the younger man's lips with his own, sighing into it. He melts as years of suppressed desire runs to the surface, so strong he aches. Their lips move as one and within moments, they are a desperate mess of lips and tongues and moans. Castiel is vaguely aware that Dean's hand is raking through his already messy dark hair but he can't concentrate on that because Dean's tongue swipes across his bottom lip, begging for entrance which the former-angel quickly grants.

His hands brace themselves on the bed beneath their bodies and he nearly buckles and falls when Dean rocks his hips up to grind them together. He groans against Dean's lips and shifts so they rub against one another, creating a delicious friction that feels so good but yet not quite enough. Castiel has wanted this for so, so long. He's going into overdrive and it takes all of his strength not to collapse onto Dean and turn into a hot, shaking, quivering mess. He's sure there's some irony in the fact that he's so touch-starved despite the copious amount of meaningless sex that he's been burying himself in recently. It was never the same. It was never Dean.

"Cas," Dean breathes out as he breaks their kiss, fingers tangled in the former-angel's hair. Castiel shifts to rest their foreheads together and he feels Dean's legs part beneath him. "Fuck me. Now. Waited too long..."

Castiel moves to rid Dean of his jeans and boxers but stills when he realizes the words that slipped from the hunter's lips. _Waited too long._ What does that mean? Castiel almost laughs because the idea that Dean has been craving Castiel's touch for as long as Castiel has been craving his is just bizarre. It seems impossible. Especially since Dean spends so long sleeping with the women on the camp and.... oh. _Oh_. But so has he. He has been doing the same. He smiles and closes his eyes, disbelieving of the fact that he and Dean have been keeping the same secret for so long.

When he eventually rids Dean of his clothes, he glances down to see his cock spring free from its confinements, slapping lightly against his abdomen. It's heavy and red and so desperate to be touched that Castiel can't help himself. He reaches down and wraps his slender fingers around his length, stroking him softly, smearing the precome with his thumb. The hunter arches into his touch and groans, eyes flickering shut. Castiel licks his lips, continuing his slow and teasing strokes until Dean reaches down and tears Castiel's hand away before ridding him of the shirt he's wearing, discarding it so Castiel is semi-naked. He does the rest of the work for him and rids himself of his pants, suddenly even happier about his decision to abstain from wearing underwear.

He hisses softly as the air hits his cock but it dissipates quickly. His cock is thick and heavy between his legs, so hungry for attention that he's almost dizzy with anticipation. He's torn between wanting to devour Dean quickly until he comes hard because he can't wait any longer and dragging this out nice and slowly until Dean is begging for release because Castiel may not get another chance and he wants to soak up every little moment. When Dean leans up and kisses him, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth and nipping, Castiel knows he's going to end up falling for the first option. He doesn't have enough self control.

With that, he parts Dean's legs and climbs between them because there's no way he's turning him over. He wants to see him come apart. He reaches to the nightstand and retrieves the lube he keeps in the drawer, thankful when Dean doesn't question why he keeps it there. He knows Dean is fully aware of his debauched behaviour but proof of it is another matter. He flips the cap off and pours some into his hand, warming it up before he reaches down and wraps his fingers around his own cock. He groans loudly, eyes flickering shut as he finally receives attention on his aching cock, even if it's from his own hand. He strokes himself slowly, half to lube himself up and half because he just can't help himself. He's so needy; it's overwhelming.

When he opens his eyes again, he sees that Dean is staring down at Castiel stroking himself off with wide, hungry eyes and its enough to drag a moan from Castiel's throat. He licks his lips and his eyes flutter upwards to look at Dean through thick lashes. Dean swallows hard and Castiel watches his Adam's apple bobbing as he mutters something about wanting Cas to just get on with it and fuck him. Whatever he said, it's enough to urge Castiel onwards and he pushes Dean's thighs further apart, practically fainting with need when the hunter eagerly parts his legs further and hooks them around Castiel's waist to drag their bodies closer together. He didn't expect Dean to be so eager or willing and it's delicious. It's better than any debauched fantasy that Castiel indulged himself in when he was pleasuring himself or busying himself with another women. This is perfect and so much more.

He rubs the head of his cock against Dean's rim, smearing it with his own precome because, damn, it just feels like the hottest thing ever and Castiel's never fucked anyone without a condom before. For obvious reasons. The thought of coming inside Dean, spilling inside him, hits him like a punch and he has to quickly change his thought track before he comes already. Dean is moaning filthily already, rocking his hips to try and force Castiel into him, tightening his legs around his waist and his eyes are so full of unspoken pleas that Castiel can't help but tease him more.

"Cas, get on with it..." Dean growls and his voice is so broken.

"You can do better than that..." Castiel purrs lowly, a teasing and hungry smile spreading across his face. Dean's brow furrows in confusion and then he gets it and his eyes widen. He quirks an eyebrow and Castiel is sure there's a silent _'challenge accepted'_ written in his expression. Especially since his next words are punctuated by the sluttiest moan Castiel has ever heard. He's pretty sure that noise alone could send him straight to hell. If that were true, Castiel would gladly burn for eternity just to hear it again.

"Oh, fuck, Cas..." He moans out, pleadingly. "Fuck me. Please."

Those words drive Castiel crazy and he moans back. Dean seems to notice because he doesn't stop, lips parting and a liturgy of begs, of whispered; _fuck me, please, fuck me_ over and over again. Dean is fucking filthy and _damn_ that shouldn't turn Castiel on as much as it does. He's so far fallen that it's almost shameful but right now, between Dean's legs, he's sure that he feels closer to Heaven than he has in a long time. He doesn't know whether or not to laugh or cry at that thought.

"Cas.... p-please..." Dean begs and it snaps Castiel back. He looks down at the beautifully desperate green eyes and runs his fingertips gently up the inside of the hunter's thighs, soft and teasing. Dean's eyes are wide and glossy, reflecting the flickering flames and he opens his mouth to beg but when Castiel digs his nails into Dean's skin to leave half-crescent red indents, he just gasps instead and bucks his hip so that his begging hole is rubbing against Castiel's cock again and it's _too much._

Castiel grips his thighs and thrusts in with one fluid and rough motion. His previous guesses that this is new to Dean is further confirmed by the crazy, broken moans escaping his lips and the twitching tightness that engulfs Castiel's length. It's so perfectly delicious that Castiel could stay there forever if he had the self control. But he doesn't. So instead, he rocks his hips, thrusting slowly into Dean, as if experimenting. He doesn't want to make this uncomfortable for Dean. He's never fucked a guy before and he's pretty sure Dean has never been fucked before. They were both as inexperienced as each other.

"C-Cas, fuck, move." Dean demanded, voice rough and low. He punctuated his words with a roll of his hips and it's all Castiel needs to start moving his hips, pulling almost all the way out before filling the hunter up again, reveling in the breathy moans that slip from Dean's lips.

He picks up his pace, moving rhythmically inside of him, slamming against his prostate as both of them moan desperately. He leans down and captures Dean's lips in a bruising kiss, biting and licking at his lips sloppily as he fills up Dean over and over again. The flimsy woodwork of the bed creaks underneath them, groaning with each movement of Castiel's hips until the room is drowned in a symphony of noises; the desperate moaning from both men, the slap of skin against skin as Castiel's hips snap against Dean's ass, the bed groaning underneath them, the onslaught outside and the fire crackling in the corner. It's perfect, every detail is perfect and Castiel is lost. He is so fucking lost in it.

They break the kiss, gasping for air, pushing their sweat-slick foreheads together as they share breaths, both moaning and whimpering desperately. Pleasure courses through Castiel's veins like wildfire, lighting him up, setting him ablaze. In all these years, despite all of the near-comatose states he's drugged himself to, despite all the desperate attempts to numb his emotions with drugs and sex, Castiel has never felt so damn alive. And he loves it.

Castiel can feel the heat pooling inside of him, washing through his body so deliciously that he's trembling with need. He's so close and it's too soon. It will be over soon and Castiel doesn't like that thought but he can't help it. He needs to come. He needs it so bad and if the whimpers and short, needy breaths that are being ripped from Dean's throat is anything to go by, Dean is close too. He leans down, biting at Dean's neck, sucking to leave a mark; a reminder the next day that what they're doing now wasn't just one of Castiel's drug induced fantasies and he's here. They're actually doing this. He licks a trail from the nape of Dean's neck up to his earlobe, feeling Dean shiver beneath him at the hot, wetness of his tongue. He watches the thin line of saliva quickly cool on Dean's burning skin and he nibbles at the hunter's earlobe.

"Dean..." He purrs lowly and filthily. "I want you to come for me. Want to watch you come so hard.... You are _so_ beautiful."

The last phrase has Dean's back arching and he's releasing desperate whines, so close to the edge and oh, _oh_. Dean has a thing for praise. Castiel is almost shocked. He leans in again, whispering a constant string of praises, telling him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, how tight and perfect he is around Castiel's cock and that's all Dean needs. His back arches and he comes, painting his chest with strings of white. His hole twitches around Castiel's cock and tightens, making the glorious heat even more insufferable.

He watches as Dean's face contorts, his eyes fluttering shut as he throws his head back, releasing a broken version of Castiel's name as the former-angel holds off his own orgasm. He just wants to watch Dean come apart first. But, he falls short and when Dean involuntarily thrusts his hips back, forcing Castiel deeper into him, he bites down on his lip, closes his eyes and comes hard.

The white, hot heat of his orgasm takes over and he can see stars behind his eyelids, spots of light dotting his vision and he's sure they match the constellations he sees in Dean's freckles. His whole body thrums with pleasure and it's nothing like he's ever felt before. No amount of fantasies in Castiel's head could have ever comprehended the glorious feeling of coming apart inside Dean. He's wanted this for so long and now that it's here, it feels so good it's almost unbearable. He trembles and quivers and it's both over too quickly and lasts forever. He's never been so fucking happy to be human and he doesn't think he ever will be again.

Trembling, he collapses on Dean's chest, sated and sweating. He's breathing heavy and ragged as the hunter's heart hammers under his cheek, just as uneven as his own. They're both panting and moans slip from their lips with every exhale of breath. There's a beautiful silence that washes over both of them except for their simultaneous whimpers, the crackle of the fire and the howl of the snowstorm outside. Castiel has never felt so relaxed.

Eventually, he hears a soft, disbelieving laugh bubble up from Dean's throat and Castiel can't help but to laugh too, grinning widely as he looks up, blue eyes meeting green. They exchange smiles and Castiel feels Dean's hand run through his damp curls, stuck to his forehead with sweat and, for once, it's because he's coming down from a different kind of high. A good kind of high. A good kind of sweat and tremble.

"Shit, Cas..." Dean breathes out and his voice is tender. "I can't believe we just..."

Castiel hums, gently pulling out of Dean and curling up beside him, resting his head on his shoulder.

"Me neither." He replies softly. "But I'm glad we did."

"Me too...." Dean sighs softly and then he's grinning again. "Fuck, was this your plan to begin with? Was the whole 'you're so tense' thing a trap...?"

"I don't know what kind of sex-pest you think I am but I'm not that far gone yet, Dean..." Castiel laughs softly. "I just wanted to give you a massage. You're the one who moaned like a slut."

"...Bite me." Dean rolls his eyes and Castiel is tempted to oblige but Dean carries on talking. "We have to do this again. Say we'll do this again."

"...I would love to." Castiel purrs, relishing in the warmth of the fire and his post-orgasmic bliss.He runs his fingertips across Dean's chest, writing Enochian lullabies onto his skin that Dean would never understand. Castiel is forgetting and it kills him but he knows enough Enochian to spell out soothing words, dancing his fingers in the curves of Dean's skin. He reaches down and pulls the thin and worn blankets around them both, sighing in content.

He looks up at Dean through his lashes and reminds himself one last time just how beautiful he is. He tries to drink in every last detail of his friend - his almost lover - because he knows that every day could be their last. His chest aches and he can't imagine holding Dean's bloody and lifeless body in his arms. He would sell his soul to keep Dean safe but there is no one buying anymore. He sighs and closes his eyes.

"Dean, promise me something..." Castiel murmurs and Dean hums questioningly, as if prompting Castiel to continue. "Please, the torturing... it has to stop. Make it stop." His next words are whispered, almost inaudible. "Seeing you do that... it's breaking my heart."

Dean is quiet for a while. "Okay." He eventually replies softly and Castiel smiles. "Just, promise me you'll stop with the drugs. You're killing yourself, Cas."

"I promise..." Castiel mumbles and he means it. If he can have Dean like this often, then he wants to be able to feel. Right now, he wants his senses to be alive because they light up gloriously with every touch and word he receives from Dean. Why would he ever want to numb that?

Little did they both know, both of them would break their promises hours after the storm dissipated but in that moment, it didn't matter. They would promise their bodies to one another, and whilst others may lay their hands on them, they were always sworn to return to one another. And they would. They would return to one another's embrace right until the last moment. The last night.

For the first time in years, Castiel fell asleep without taking his sleeping pills and Dean's sleep was not plagued with nightmares of his little brother's soul trapped or the demons screaming at his hands or anything, everything, that he had done to get where he is now. They just lay, curled in one another's arms, warm and blissful and unaware of the storm raging on outside and the even bigger storm that awaited them only a few weeks in the future. For once, they were both content with ignorance, both content with being unaware that they would confront Lucifer for the last time oh so soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like that got sentimental as fuck in places and then all soppy and sad at the end. Meh. Kudos is much appreciated.


End file.
